


The Perfect "Couple"

by rhymeswithoriginal (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, OR IS IT??, One Shot, Polyamory, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/rhymeswithoriginal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were the perfect couple, Alex and Eliza. Everybody agreed.</p><p>Out loud, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect "Couple"

**Author's Note:**

> It's a one shot, and it's short, but I hope you like it!

They were the perfect couple, Alex and Eliza. Everybody agreed.

Out loud, anyway.

He was a poor but inspiring writer from some island in the Caribbean; she was a rich but sweet and caring teacher from upstate New York. Her father was a senator; his mother was dead. They both loved each other very much, and they were the perfect couple.

Everybody agreed.

John Laurens agreed with his mouth but not with his eyes; Angelica agreed with her words but not with her tone; Aaron agreed with a smile but one that didn’t mean anything; and Thomas agreed with every ounce of his soul but couldn’t help thinking, as they all couldn’t help thinking:

_Why couldn’t I be her?_

They’d all had their chances. They’d all felt the same thing. They’d all wished for it to be true, they’d all wished he could somehow love them back, but only Eliza had been lucky enough to score a single date with him.

When the pairing was in their company, everyone congratulated them. Everyone raised their glasses to that toast…

_“To the bride!”_

_“To the bride!”_

_“To the groom!”_

_“To the groom!”_

_That second one that was when Angelica’s eyes met John’s. They kept up their façades, their carefree smiles, but exchanged the message. They both knew what was missing. It was just a second of eye contact, but it was enough for John to understand her. And then, like it hadn’t even happened, Angelica started up again._

_“To the union!”_

_“To the union…”_

Everyone. That was the key word. Everyone loved the perfect couple. Everyone congratulated them. Everyone was in love with Alex. That was everyone’s problem.

~

Aaron met him first.

“Pardon me. Are you Aaron Burr, sir?”

“That depends. Who’s asking?”

“Oh, well, sure, sir. I’m Alexander Hamilton, I’m at your service, sir.”

Aaron could barely keep track of what he was saying, so he couldn’t possibly be the one to blame when he forgot at which letter he first fell in love with him.

Or maybe it wasn’t his powerful tone of voice; maybe it was that inky hair pulled into a messy bun that somehow managed to be even more attractive than his energetic brown eyes; or maybe it was how adorable he looked in a hoodie.

Maybe it was a beautiful combination of all of those.

Aaron thought he had a chance—he must have been Alex’s first friend, of course—but Alex didn’t seem to be interested. So he kept his opinions to himself, and kept the smile that lit up whenever he saw Alex to himself. It worked best, after all.

They had their disagreements, sure. Alex was too expressive. Aaron wasn’t expressive enough. He linked this to some song he’d heard Alex half-singing one day:

_“You’re holding in—_

_You’re pouring out…”_

Or maybe it was “you’re pouring a drink.” That wasn’t him—or Alex—neither of them drank. He could see that John Laurens guy drowning his sorrows in the drink, though. But that was none of his business.

Their friendship was rocky. Perhaps because one was in love with the other.

He was, by far, surprised when he got the invitation to Alex and Eliza’s wedding. He wasn’t sure if Alex still considered him a friend, an ally. Turns out he did.

He wore a smile along with his tuxedo. It was the fakest one he’d ever faked.

~

Make no mistake—Angelica loved her sister.

She also, however, loved Alexander.

That would prove to be a problem in the future.

Angelica could still remember that night vividly—he looked stunning, in some long navy jacket, and she had worn her favorite color in a new dress. It would have been amazing, and they would have had a great conversation, and they would have laughed, and drank, and he would have taken her home.

Then she saw Eliza, sweet Eliza—oh, Angelica would never stop loving her sister with all of her heart. But that didn’t mean she loved Alexander with more than just her heart.

He seemed to be the perfect match for her—but then, didn’t John think that as well? And Burr? And Jefferson? His intelligence matched hers, as did his wit, his perception, maybe even his style, and she loved him for it. They highlighted each other, and maybe he could have grown to care for her, too. But… Eliza, again, still had that look in her eye whenever she saw him. That look would be the death of Angelica.

There was nothing she could do about it, of course. She had been doomed the minute he step foot in that room.

And now, here she was, at his wedding. She was experienced enough now to see whose smiles were pained and whose smiles were genuine; by the end of the night, she had concluded that John, Burr, and Jefferson were also bitter and heartbroken, and in a terrible amount of agony. She also knew that they pitied her the most—she was the one who had to give the toast, after all. She had to give her good tidings to the perfect couple. She was the most tortured, they all thought.

Her sighs would stay the same, taught and unrevealing; her gaze would stay the same, firm and commanding; but her heart would always know better. Her heart would not be tricked so easily again—but, surely, there would never be someone just like Alexander again.

She stared across the room at the bar. The lights had been dimmed, and the newlyweds were still dancing. Angelica could make out several people drinking, but only one of them was one she was familiar with.

In her opinion, he was the most tortured. He was suffering the most.

~

Thomas Jefferson was a proud man, and a very vain one at that. Those facts did not cushion the fact that he was totally, completely, and absolutely infatuated with Alexander; in fact, those very facts may have simply added to the damage.

Every day, he checked his mirror. He loved himself, maybe a little bit too much—but he loved himself, and that was that. That had all changed when he found himself acquainted with Alexander.

His problem (God, he hated problems, especially when they involved him) was that the mirror didn’t show Alexander next to him.

His mirror didn’t show an Alexander smiling next to him.

His mirror didn’t show an Alexander trying to jump up next to him, trying to adjust his tie in the morning.

His mirror didn’t show an Alexander wearing that stupid and beautiful green coat;

his mirror didn’t show an Alexander wearing one of Thomas’s shirts, possibly thrown on from the night before; 

his mirror didn’t an Alexander wearing nothing;

and that was his problem. His mirror couldn’t show Alexander, because Alexander hated Thomas, and Thomas hated Alexander, and that was how things worked.

Thomas hated how things worked.

However, even he had to admit that Eliza was a beautiful bride, especially with her hair up like that and such a beautiful dress. Something about her serene smile made it harder for him to hate her. Besides, she was Angelica’s sister—he had the privilege to call Angelica his friend, and wouldn’t like that to change.

Maybe it was then, at their wedding that Thomas figured himself out. Maybe it was the moment Alex’s feet aligned with Eliza’s and the perfect couple started to dance that his heart didn’t feel so weighted down.

Once he saw them together, something felt different. No, he hadn’t spilt wine over his suit—he had finally figured it out. He wasn’t in love with Alexander anymore.

He thought it over again and again—and as he did this, he realized that he wasn’t as infatuated with Alexander as the idea of Alexander. Yes, that was it, he had simply wanted someone to be with, not someone in particular, and then he looked up and he saw him—

_James._

~

John was sick and tired and drunk.

This is what he kept convincing himself. If he was, indeed, sick and tired and drunk, he could somehow gather the brains to make up an excuse to get out of this wedding and away from the perfect couple that everyone kept applauding.

In a way, he really was sick and tired and drunk: he was sick of all the attention Eliza and Alex (especially Alex, the little shit) were getting, he was tired of his stupid unrequited love for the groom, and he was drunk with disappointment.

_Gee, tell us more about how heartbroken you are, John! Everyone wants to know about how you’ll never get over this one guy and how the rest of your life is totally and utterly fucked up!_

John hated feeling this way. He hated feelings in general. They’d given him enough grief to last a lifetime. More specifically, he hated dealing with his feelings.

And his feelings for Alex were becoming overwhelming.

Everything about him was overwhelming, really: his hair, his eyes, his mouth, his lips, his words, his skin, his passion, his… just him. Alex in general was overwhelming to the senses. He smelled of coffee, his hair was silk, his words were honey, he always looked amazing, and John couldn’t even imagine what his kisses were like—

No. This was Alex’s wedding, not a tribute to how hopeless John was. He raised another glass to his lips and let it sink down in him. He could tell this was going to be a long night.

Over the course of the unending night, Eliza and Alex passed him several times. They always smiles when they did, they talked to him a few of the times, and Alex met John’s shameless stare one time. They danced towards him, and they danced away. They ran towards him, then ran away, always giggling. This was even more painful than he imagined.

He spent most of his time at the bar, only venturing out to the dance floor to check out the scene. Angelica met his gaze as well, for the second time that night, and again they sensed each other’s anguish.

Burr was quiet, and didn’t sing along like the others. He had that obnoxious smile on, like he always did, and John still hated him. But he couldn’t give him too much flack—the man must’ve had some feelings for Alex as well, of course.

When John saw Jefferson, his mouth tugged up at the corner, and he was saddened when he realized that was the closest he had come to a smile all night. Jefferson was the luckiest. He was able to move on—John had known that Madison must have had some sort of crush on Jefferson before, but didn’t know he’d act on it. He definitely didn’t expect both of them to be dancing together and exchanging kisses.

John suppressed another sigh. This was going to be hard. But he was strong. He was fine. He was also full of liquor. This night was going to be alright.

Things got a lot harder when Eliza came up to him, most likely four times as drunk as John was, asking him about how great he thought Alex was a husband.

“He’s, he’s the best, righ… right, John? I love him so much!”

He forced a nod. “He sure is, Eliza.” She wouldn’t stop hugging him, so he just smiled and looked over at Alex.

The groom of the day was looking back at him, but didn’t have a smile to match. He hadn’t gotten up to drag Eliza off for some more dancing or apologize for both of theirs behavior like the other times; he just sat on the seat across from John, staring with the same eyes John couldn’t help falling for.

Yeah, John would never get over him.

His melancholy thoughts were interrupted by Eliza grabbing his face and studying him intently, eyebrows raised and smile gone.

“I have a question for you, John.” Her tone was almost comically serious, given that she’d just downed another shot from the counter.

“Yes, Eliza?” He tried to free himself from her hands, but she kept holding on to him. When John glanced at Alex, he saw a look of fear on his face as he tried to pull his new bride away again.

“Umm, Eliza and I—we better get going again, meet with some others, old friends, you know? Umm, Eliza, come on, let’s go—“

“No, Alex, I want to ask John.”

“Eliza, I don’t think that’s the best idea right now.”

John was slightly amused. “What is it, Eliza?”

“Alex and I want you to be our boyfriend.”

His grin was wiped from his face like the bartender wiped his glass that night. “Sorry, what?”

Alex wedged himself in between Eliza and John. “Uh, she misspoke. She said…Umm, she said that she and I wanted you to, uh, be the godfather for our boy. If the kid’s going to be a boy. Yeah.”

Alex really was scared. He was blushing, and his hair was a little messed up from all the dancing, and somehow the lights from the bar were shining on him just right. Alex looked incredibly attractive like this.

“Really, ‘cause what I heard was ‘Alex and I want you to be our boyfriend.’”

Alex’s face grew redder and redder with every word. “I’m so sorry, John. We’ll just leave now. It’s better. Sorry she acted like this—sorry we acted like—we’ll just leave, John. We’ll be on our way.” He started to hook his arm with Eliza’s and get away from the bar as quickly as possible, but John grabbed on to his jacket and stopped him in his tracks.

“Alex,” he whispered, for fear that someone might be listening in, “do you want to have a polyamorous relationship with me and Eliza?” Alex’s face drained from all color. He started stuttering, but John shushed him. “Because as long as everyone knows what’s happening, I’d have no problem with that.”

Eliza cheered, but Alex didn’t make any moves. He kept looking at John, maybe searching for some sign that John was lying or joking or _something_ , because he had never imagined that John would understand.

“I love you, Eliza. And I love you, too, Alex.” Eliza hugged him and gave him a peck on the cheek; Alex kept his distance, not saying a word, just staring.

“I’ve loved you so long, Alexander Hamilton. That’s a truth I’m willing to share with the world.”

The three wasted no time in finding a spare room to talk things out as well as make out. This night wasn’t as bad as John thought it would be, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> All of the "hamliza wedding+angelica's and john's unrequited love" stories are so mean to you. They always end with John either drinking himself to tears or going home v sad. It really hurts me inside, so I decided to make this! Yay! If you liked this, please drop a comment and give some kudos. Feel free to share your opinion!
> 
> this is, in part, also inspired by irl a.ham asking john for a threesome at the hamliza wedding but eliza declining
> 
> _(i need constructive criticism)_


End file.
